Chapter 7 #2
She could not be more pleased that she had been wrong.
Even though William would be twelve in April, and there would be too much of an age difference for him to have the kind of relationship with the child she was carrying like he enjoyed with Andrew and Richard, Lady Anne was pleased that her son would no longer be an only child.
Her mind drifted to the sadness Amelia and Francis lived with.
They had put on a brave face when Anne announced that she was with child again.
There was a sliver of hope because a body had never been found, and His Majesty had agreed that until a body was produced, Bethie would not be declared dead.
If she were never found, then the Leeds line would die out fourteen years after Francis was called home.
At five and forty he was still relatively young, so the hope was that he would continue on as duke for decades.
Anne Fitzwilliam was not eligible thanks to the king’s decree removing any descendant of the de Bourgh line from eligibility.
As much as Lady Anne knew that Amelia and Francis were happy for the Darcys that there would be another child, it was obvious that it was a painful subject for them.
It was not only that no trace of Bethie had been found—and not for want of searching—but since Bethie’s birth, Amelia had never missed her courses once.
No child would ever replace the one who had been stolen from them, but had He blessed them with another, it would have helped lessen the pain somewhat.
The fifth of March each year was an especially difficult day for Amelia as another of Bethie’s birthdays passed without knowing where she was. In a month, Anne’s goddaughter would be five.
As they started another circuit of the conservatory, Holderness looked at his wife and did not miss a sad look. “I see a look of melancholy,” he observed. “I will wager you were thinking of the Osbornes and Bethie. I, too, know that her fifth birthday is fast approaching.”
“Robert, you know me so well. I almost feel guilty for our good fortune.”
“Anne, you know as well as I do that Amelia and Leeds would be the first ones to tell you that our joy is not at the expense of their grief over not knowing where Bethie is. However, I do understand your sentiments on the matter. Try to concentrate on the impending joy of a second child.”
“I know there are many blessings. Andrew is in his final year at Eton. It is hard to grasp, as it seems like he was a little boy a few days ago. I am pleased that Elaine and Reggie agreed that Richard could delay his entry to Eton until the next academic year so that he and William will be together.” Lady Anne cogitated for a moment.
“Why do you think our son is so awkward around those he does not know? It is not like you or I are misanthropes.”
“Some children are naturally shy; William just happens to be one of them,” Holderness opined.
“You may be correct. On a lighter subject, has our niece not blossomed since being adopted by Elaine and Reggie?”
“She has and is doing very well with her studies. It was just the thing that the Fitzwilliams had Miss Jenkinson educated and that she is Anne’s governess now.
Anne loves her like a second mother.” Holderness remembered something.
“Did your brother tell you that a virulent strain of scarlet fever moved through the area around Rosings Park last summer? He said that the Collins family missed the illness as they were with family in Hertfordshire at the time. Matlock is well pleased Anne no longer lived there when it struck because if she were still kept the same way she was by the woman I will not mention, she would have been of a far more delicate constitution and susceptible to the illness.”
“There is no question that Anne becoming a Fitzwilliam has benefited our niece, but I know that Elaine and Matlock have never regretted having her as a daughter.”
“Robert, it is time for me to go rest. Will you escort me to our bedchamber? If you have nothing else to do, I would like you to keep me company on the bed, even if it is too uncomfortable for joining.”
“You know I can never deny you anything, and holding you in my arms while you rest is one of my great pleasures, no matter what we are or are not doing.”
“That, Robert Darcy, is why I love you so well.”
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The celebration at Longbourn was to be a large one. It was mostly because of Lizzy’s birthday on the third day of February, the date Fanny and Bennet had selected as the date they would celebrate her birth.
It would be as well planned as all of her children’s celebrations of the day of their birth, but Fanny harboured a secret, one she could not allow any of her children to know.
Her favourite daughter, her favourite child, was Lizzy.
As strong a bond as she had with each of the children she birthed, there was a special connection with Lizzy, and had been since the day Fanny had rescued her from the woods in Lincolnshire.
Lizzy had begun to walk—well, she never really walked because as soon as she was able to stand, she ran—at what the Bennets believed was ten months of age.
Words began a few short weeks later, and once she began to be mobile and speak, the only times she was truly quiet and still was when she was at Fanny’s breast, being read a story, or when she was asleep.
Fanny weened Lizzy at just above a year old.
She was sad to miss those close times with her second daughter.
As she got older, it seemed that once Lizzy saw or heard something once, she never forgot it.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
There were other reasons to celebrate in the family besides birthdays. In the almost five years since Lizzy had become a Bennet, much had happened.
Fanny’s suspicion, even though she had dared not hope that she was with child in September 1791, had been confirmed when she had missed that and the next two months’ courses. She had truly begun to believe she would be blessed again when she had felt the quickening in early November.
All had gone well, and on the twentieth day of April 1792, Mary Penelope was born.
It had been an easy delivery for Fanny, who cared not what the sex of the child was because as long as she bore a healthy babe, Fanny was determined to accept that He had blessed them with another child, regardless of its sex.
When she offered thanks to God, Fanny was convinced that everything had changed for the better with Lizzy’s discovery.
As she grew older, Mary had more and more of Grandmama Beth’s colouring.
When the neighbours saw the second and third Bennet daughters together, it bolstered the idea that Lizzy had been born of Fanny’s body, seeing that the two girls had similar hair and eye colour.
Mary was longer as a babe than Lizzy had been, and by the time she turned two, she was as tall as Lizzy was at the age of three.
The blessing of more children was not over for the Bennets because Fanny fell in the family way again. In December 1793, she missed the second consecutive monthly indisposition, and then there was a quickening in early February 1794. Catherine Lydia was born on the penultimate day of August 1794.
When she was born, like her eldest sister, Catherine was almost completely bald for some months.
It was not long before Kitty—as she was called thanks to her affinity for cats—began to grow hair which was the same light brown as her father and brother James had.
Her eyes were the deep blue that both her mother and eldest sister sported.
At birth, she was even longer than Mary was, so there was an expectation she would be a tall girl one day.